Life as a Commonwealth Cop
by CharlemagneXII
Summary: The lives of two Commonwealth State Troopers just before the Great War. I plan to take this all the way to the Winter of 2078. This is my version of pre-war America and what I have interpreted from the Fallout franchise lore. I hope readers enjoy as this is my first story. I will also add that I draw some inspiration from a 60-70's era show called "Adam-12" Enjoy, Nerds.
1. Part I

Summer 2069

MA Commonwealth

"The Bread Winners"

Oliver Reed sat in his 2067 Police Corvega Sedan, shotgun racked in the center, and partner James Clavel nodding off from boredom. Uniforms wrinkled from a long day, police caps laying on the Sedan's dash. The afternoon sun made the already warm day hotter from the two men just sitting in place. The black streets and white sidewalks shimmering from the heat. The cafe on the corner with its windows open and front door propped by a sandwich board seemed to be calling his name.

"Hey," Reed said, slapping his partners arm jerking him awake, "Let's get a cup of coffee."

They locked the Sedan and crossed the quiet Tuesday street without trouble and found a seat under the awning with a full view of the street. East they could see both sides of the road lined with shops and apartments with a small park nestled between two buildings on the North side. West they could see a similar scene, except with the town library capping the end of the seeable road, and a small New England Catholic Church, St. Erasmus, on the South side.

"Why hello, boys," said a young brunette waitress in a green dress and blue apron, "Nice of you two to finally join us, Marcy and I were beginning to wonder if you were casing the place."

"We were," said Clavel smirking, tipping his Police cap, "This is just us getting a feel for the staff."

"Well I imagine you boys will want to get a feel for our coffee too?" she asked, "Or can I get you a soda?" The two men ordered and the waitress disappeared inside the restaurant.

Down the street, St. Erasmus' bell began tolling, announcing 1 O'clock had come. After a moment, a man in a collared shirt stepped from the open doors and began a leisurely stroll towards them. Checking his watch, Clavel said, "Man, we're only halfway to quitting time."

"Might try casing the Library next," said the Waitress, reappearing with their drinks, "Unless you plan to just stare at your noses all day."

"Hey that's not a bad idea," said Clavel, twisting open his sunset sarsaparilla, "I think they might have William McAfee's new book."

"The western about Chinamen?" Reed asked after sipping his coffee, "Doesn't it take place now days?"

"Doesn't sound like much of a western to me," said the Waitress, resting the tray she brought their drinks with on her hip.

"Oh you two don't know what you're talking about!" Clavel said shaking his head, "McAfee knows how to make a story out of anything and could turn anything into a western if he tried."

After a few minutes the two men paid their bill and stood to leave when the man in the collared shirt ran up to them breathing hard, "Boy am I glad to see you two," he said, coughing to clear his throat of the flem that had developed from lack of exercise.

"Easy Father," said Reed, "What seems to be the problem?"

"I just saw three men robbing the O'Rorke place," he said, still trying to catch his breath. He quickly described what he had seen and the two officers made for their car. In seconds they were peeling out and with sirens blaring they raced to the bakery known as 'The O'Rorke Place'. En-route, Clavel relayed the situation via the radio set in their sedan. Reed went wide to one side of the street to avoid a van that had come cruising down the road and slammed on the breaks, pointing the hood of the car towards the bakery.

Kicking open both doors, Clavel placed his shotgun between the door and the car while Reed aimed his .32 pistol into the building. Using the loudspeaker mounted atop his car, he called in to the crooks inside. From his count he could see three, one pointing a gun at innocent bystanders, one at the baker behind the counter, and one who seemed to be covering the door. "Commonwealth State Police, surrender!" he called through the speaker, "We have you surrounded, you have no hope of escape."

"Stay out of this Coppo!" he heard in response. Reed could see arguing inside, before one of the men fired at his sedan. Reed responded and gunned the man down with a single shot. Inside, the hostages dropped to the ground and the two remaining robbers made for a back exit. Reed and Clavel ran in after them.

"Stay down!" Clavel yelled at the men and women already prone. A small explosion next to Reed followed a pistol shot from the back of the bakery. Clavel fired his shotgun and was gratified to hear a man scream in agony before falling silent. One man left, Reed and Clavel burst through the back door and found themselves in a narrow alleyway. Right there was nothing, but left they could see a lone man sprinting for the open street beyond.

"Get the car and cut him off at the end of the alley!" Reed said to Clavel before sprinting after the man, leaping over fallen trash cans and pallets, .32 still in his hand.

Clavel ran back into the bakery past where two men lay shot, one wounded. The bystanders were just beginning to recover themselves when he ordered them back down and burst out onto the street. He slammed the passenger door, leapt over the hood, threw his shotgun into the passenger seat and took off for the alleyway head.

"Stop! Police!" Reed yelled, heart beating fast. The man turned and fired his gun wildly in the general direction of Reed who ducked behind a dumpster in time to hear the 'TWANG' of the bullet flying wild. He ran after the man and was nearly on him when the alley way suddenly ended for the man. Reed knew he was about to lose him if he got into the open street, _where was Clavel?_

As if summoned by his thoughts, a black and white Corvega screeched to a halt in front of the man and an angry Clavel lept from the driver's seat with his sidearm drawn, "Freeze!" he shouted "Commonwealth State Police!" The man hesitated for the shortest second, but just long enough for Reed to crash into him and bring him to the ground. Before long, Reed had cuffed and searched the man, finding a wad of cash and a 9mm stuffed in his waistband, and a knife in his sock.


	2. Part II

Part II

Autumn 2069

MA Commonwealth

A chilly wind blew down main street as the two Officers went about their daily beat. New holsters and gear on their hips. Gone were the .32 pistols, though both officers kept them at home, replaced with new shiny 10mm pistols. Naturally, with the change over from the .32 revolver to the 10mm automatic required new ways of holding their ammunition. So the MA Commonwealth funded magazine pouches on its Officer's belts in place of the western style displaying each individual round. Flashlights, night sticks and handcuffs decorated their new snazzy uniforms as the two men walked the length of main street. Turning down alleyways and coming back out on the other side.

"Officer Clavel?" shouted a woman from across the street, "Officer Reed? Can you gentleman stop by here please? I think I've been robbed!" The Woman wore a recently laundered denim dress with her dark hair pinned up.

"Good morning, ma'am," said Reed when they had crossed the street, "You were robbed?"

"Yes," she said, offering her hand "I'm Mrs. Jack O'Connor, my husband is in Anchorage so I watch run the store while he's away."

"Which store is your's ma'am?" Reed asked, writing details in a notebook he had produced.

"I run my husband's clothing store," she said shaking Clavel's hand, "Jack's Trappings?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Clavel, "Can you take us there?"

"Why yes!" she said, "Ill tell you everything I know on the way."

A short walk later Reed and Clavel had learned that she left the store around Six in the evening, locking the door behind her and had gone straight home as she didn't need anything at the store as she did not have any children, yet. When she had returned around Seven this morning she had found her door unlocked, "Which couldn't have been right, I was sure I had locked it last night," inside she at first noted nothing out of the ordinary until she got to the cash register. It had been forcibly, and she made sure Reed wrote down forcibly, opened, "with a crowbar I'm sure of it!" A rack of ties had gone missing as well as a pair of expensive Oxfords, a dress shoe worn by "men of class," she had stated.

Jack's Trappings was a corner store with windows lining the North and East sides, displaying trinkets, hats, and various garbs for upper class men and women. Reed and Clavel immediately noted the broken lock, "Probably forced with a screwdriver and bobby pin" said Clavel before they walked inside.

"Is that how they got in?" Mrs. O'Connor asked "They broke my husbands lock?"

"Probably," said Reed, "We'll know more after we get all the facts, ma'am."

Edgar James Nimoy was not a poor man. He enjoyed long quiet walks at night, concerts with his favorite bands, and going to the library after leaving work at the Red Rocket Station. As manager, he could afford the apartment across the street without issue, as well as plenty of food and the occasional trip to the movies or long ride on his Lone Wanderer.

His apartment wasn't particularly spacious but it was clean. Incredibly clean almost to an obsessive point that he would occasionally ask his friends to take off their shoes before entering as not to track dirt inside. His striped suit, recently dry cleaned lay over the couch in front of his TV. A rack of ties hung from a nearby lamp where Edgar was inspecting them.

He selected a crisp looking blue to go with his striped suit, along with a matching pocket square. He placed the two with the suit before he zipped up his jumpsuit, laced up his sneakers, and left for work


	3. Part III

**Part III**

Winter 2070

The Police Corvega hummed in harmony with the tires across asphalt. Reed and Clavel drove high above the city on one of the Commonwealth over passes. Advertisements for Poseidon Energy and Tesla Magazine passed overhead as the Corvega rolled onward.

The two Officers were en route to the district precinct to talk to detectives about a string of robberies the higher ups seemed to think were connected. If that were true, then they probably started with the Tailor that had been robbed in the autumn of '69. The next set of stores included a parts store and then a jewelry store, followed by another parts store and then a Red Rocket. Many of the break ins had similar, what Reed and Clavel both thought to be, calling cards in the form of Neckties.

A war bond billboard went by as the two men drove onward. Which reminded Reed of the phone call he had gotten from Clavel's mother Teresa.

"Hear anything about Martin?" Reed asked. Martin was Clavel's younger brother. According to Mrs. Teresa, Martin's armor unit had been deployed to Alaska to fend off the reds. So far the campaign had been slow from what Reed could tell.

"Yea," was all Clavel said at first. A deep breath later and, "turns out he's been stationed in some place called Cordova?"

"Sounds like a fishing village," Reed said

"Something like that," Clavel said, "I looked it up the other day, nothing really their but the mouth of a river. Something like a hundred miles from Anchorage."

"Sounds safe at least," Reed said, "what's he doing?"

"Coastal Battery stuff," said Clavel, "Harassing Chinese shipping"

When the Corvega finally pulled off of the bridge and signaled for a right. As the car passed apartments on either side Clavel noted the blanket of snow that lay piled on the roofs and sidewalks, which seemed oddly lively for a Monday morning. Despite the cold, the Officers could see groups of men and women standing or sitting on the steps and rails, walking up and down the sidewalk or otherwise just staring at the Corvega. Reed knew contempt when he saw it. Sharing a look with Clavel, who then grabbed the radio mic, he continued driving on.

"1 Seira-7 to dispatch," said Clavel into the mic.

"Go ahead 1 Seira-7," radioed a feminin voice a moment later.

"Dispatch," said Clavel, "1 Seira-7 requesting information on civil unrest in the area of, 1600 McArthur Parkway and 700 Chase Street? Over,"

"1 Seira-7," said Dispatch, "Standby for information."

The two men drove on, the hair on Reed's neck was standing up and a cold sweat ran down Clavel's back. When they stopped at an intersection, they could see people lining the streets waving signs and shouting at the local City hall. The harvest of 2069 had been poor and protest of food prices had been sweeping the entire East Coast for the better part of the winter. Farms in the more southern and western states were all that were keeping the country going it seemed. People had been begging for weeks for lower prices but the corporations had so far refused, citing supply and demand as the reason for the increase. Which was probably right, but the average citizen distrusted most corporations and were now demanding the government do something about it.

"1 Seira-7, recommend you avoid area immediate of City Hall due to widespread protest."

"No shit," Clavel muttered, "try right?" he said to Reed, who nodded and pulled onto the street. Clavel radioed to Dispatch that they had not gotten word in time to avoid the crowd and were now on the street directly north of city hall.

"Roger that, 1 Seira-7," the female voice said, "Proceed with caution."

The Corvega drove slowly east as the protest roared. The sound of hundreds of people muffled by the sound of the engine and the Corvega's windows still rattled Reed and his partner. Clavel shifted uncomfortable and swore aloud when a group of protesters ran out in front of the car beating on the Corvega's hood as they passed. The two men glanced at each other and silently agreed to let the group go. It was easier to wash a car than to arrest five men in the midst of a protest.

When the car finally passed into the next intersection Reed started breathing again. They turned down a series of streets as directed by Dispatch until they came to the parking garage of the Police Station. The door closed behind them as they drove under the building into an open space. Clavel took the shotgun from the rack and Reed the closed bag housing a 10mm submachine gun and four 30 round magazines.

After they went through the door into the station they were greeted by a sergeant and medic who asked them repeatedly if they were alright and if they needed an examination. "Well I'm glad you boys are alright," the Sergeant told them when the medic had gone, "We've actually been waiting on you, so if you don't mind joining us?"


	4. Part IV

**Part IV**

Spring 2070

Reed and Clavel walked their normal beat, down Commons Street passing the O'Rorke Bakery's open windows and smell of fresh baked bread wafting from inside. Tommy O'Rorke, the Bakery's owner since his father died 10 years ago, waved from behind the counter at the two officers. Reed and Clavel waved back lazily and O'Rorke held up his hand before disappearing into the back. Reed sipped the coffee he had in his hand after they had stopped, and Clavel scanned the street then returned a wave from a passing sedan.

A tall plump man in a clean white apron exited the shop carrying two wrapped loaves of bread under one arm, "Officers!," said O'Rorke, offering his free hand to Clavel then Reed, "How was the trial?" he asked, referring to the attempted robbery of his shop last summer.

"Guilty," said Clavel, smiling at the man, "Plenty of witnesses and a good District Attorney saw to that."

"How long?" O'Rorke asked with a slight North Dublin accent.

"Ten for attempted robbery," said Reed, "Otherwise, Judge Harriet hasn't said yet."

"Well we'll hope for the best," O'Rorke said tiredly, "In any case my wife and I decided you gentleman could use a little bit of thanks from the people in this town." he said, patting the covered loaves as the fresh smell began bleeding through the fabric.

"No, no that's alright, Tommy," Clavel said, hands up"

"Oh be quiet, James Clavel," O'Rorke said, "I already called your Sergeant and he said as long as it was under Ten dollars I was fine," he pulled back the fabric on one of the loaves and the smell was almost sinful, "So I figured as long as it was Ten dollars each that Mrs. O'Rorke and I could whip you each up a right good and proper loaf of bread."

Reed pretended reluctance, "Mr. O'Rorke surely you could think of something better to do with Twenty dollars than to spend it on two Flatfoots like us?"

"Well sure I could!" he laughed, "and what made you think I spent a full twenty dollars on you? You'd be lucky if I spent twelve between the two of you!."

Later that night Nimoy sat on his Lone Wanderer watching as what sparse traffic existed passed by. When an 18 wheeler passed by, Nimoy took off his helmet and stood up. He laid his helmet on the seat, and replaced the riding gloves with a thinner, lighter pair so as to feel what he was touching.

It was a little chilly that night, so nobody who saw him would say anything about the black ski mask he wore, rolled up to appear as a beanie.

He checked the satchel he wore for his tools, stretched his fingers and then crossed the street. Nimoy walked the sidewalk for two blocks until he came to a hardware store. He studied the inside through the windows as he walked by. Nobody was inside.

Rounding a corner he turned down a dark alleyway. When he reached the end he studied both up and down for pedestrians, and then went right, coming up behind the hardware store.

As expected the back door was locked, which wasn't a problem, and probably meant that the windows were locked. So Nimoy retrieved a hair pin and screwdriver he kept in his satchel and deftly unlocked the door with a satisfying click.

Inside he relocked the door behind him and checked for windows before taking the red lens flashlight he kept out of his bag.


	5. Part V

**Part V**

Summer, 2070

When Reed arrived at the door of his 4th floor apartment he was tired, dirty, and hungry. With mail in one hand and a bag of groceries in the other he tried the door and found it unlocked. That's weird, he thought, as he never left it unlocked. He didn't exactly live in a bad part of town but he had certainly grew up in one. The door hadn't been forced as far as he could tell, the lock didn't look broken, so that meant that someone had picked it; or did he really forget to lock it this morning?

As an off-duty cop, he was required to carry his badge and his service weapon at all times, regardless of his outfit. Dressed in his T-shirt and jeans he didn't have many places to hide a weapon, so he had long ago invested in a waistband holster, where he kept his 10mm pistol. He stuffed the mail in the grocery bag, retrieved his weapon and opened the door.

Inside was his dark, more or less clean living room. His memory told him that all the lights in the place should have been turned off, all the doors open, and shades closed as not to raise the temperature in the house. So far nothing out of the ordinary.

Reed stepped inside and closed the door with his foot. He waited a moment. Nothing moved. With his elbow he flipped the light switch and saw sitting in his living chair, waiting patiently, an indifferent calico named Marcus. He stared at Marcus and Marcus stared back for the briefest moment before electing to groom himself.

"Anyone else home Marc?" he asked, not expecting an answer. Reed went further into his apartment and put the grocery bag down onto the coffee table; this seemed to annoy the cat, who then glowered at the bag before he leapt across the gap between the chair and the table. As the calico went from the chair to the table to investigate, Reed turned on the light to his bedroom. It was empty, so he went to the kitchen, then to the laundry room, then his office. Nothing. Still a little on edge, he replaced the hammer on his 10mm and didn't relax until after locking the door to his apartment.

To Marcus' further annoyance, Reed picked up the grocery bag and went back to the kitchen where he went about the business of fixing dinner and putting away his haul. Marcus, ever the curious kitty joined Reed in the kitchen by sitting himself on the corner of the island counter where the empty bag and a cutting board now sat. "How was your day, Marc?" he asked the cat who watched him silently, "Catch any mice?" Reed went on with his cutting and soon the smell of cooking ham filled the kitchen, "The door was unlocked," he said retrieving a plate from an upper cabinet, "Was that you?" Reed sliced up the ham and some bread before adding cheese, "Chasing flies?" Marcus just watched as Reed made his sandwiches, waiting for his share. "Alright, fine," he said, throwing a slice of ham to Marcus who reared up and swatted it out of the air and brought it down under his paw.

Satisfied with his cooking, he took a beer and his food and went back into the living room where he turned on the TV, threw his holstered weapon and badge on the table and sat on his green loveseat. On TV the talking heads were discussing the war with China and the invasion in Alaska. Reed watched while he ate.

It was three in the morning when he read his watch . The sound of the city at night filtered into the dark bedroom. He could hear Marcus purring on the corner of his bed and the ceiling fan creaking and clicking above him. Swinging his legs out of bed he stood and stretched before journeying to the kitchen for a glass of water. Eventually he found himself standing at the window of his living room looking out.

He could hear a couple arguing above him, what they were saying wasn't clear, but Reed figured it was Able and Kelly Cates. Kelly had probably caught Able in his gambling addiction and by now and was probably attempting to save both her husband and their money. They were nice to Reed the last time he stopped by and he liked talking to him. He and Able had even shared a table on his day off at the diner across the street. Shame, he thought, Hope they work it out.

He left the window, went into the bathroom and showered, shaved and put on his uniform. He poured himself a bowl of cereal and for Marcus he opened a can of cat food. They ate together on the kitchen counter top as the sun began peeking through the windows. He washed out his bowl, put fresh water in Marcus' dish, and went out of the apartment, double checking the lock he left for work.


	6. Part VI

**Part VI**

Fall, 2070

As Summer dragged into winter, Clavel found himself at his Mother's house. His Sisters and Dad were making dinner when Officer Clavel walked into the old yellow townhouse. The house was tasteful with paintings of other townhouses, a busy freeway and a sunset over the local supermarket. A blue sofa and matching living chair sat against an ascending staircase opposite a radiation king television. Clavel wasn't able to take off his police cap when his Mother enveloped him in a bear hug.

"James, honey!" she yelled, "You're late!"

"It's not my fault!" he strained, "You know Oliver and his driving."

"Oh he never was a fast driver," she said, releasing him.

As his Mother let go, both Clavels younger sisters broke from the kitchen and swarmed him followed shortly by his Father who said "calm down and let the boy breath."

An hour later, the Clavels were all sitting around the TV watching the Ten O'clock news show pictures of wounded American soldiers with thumbs up or waving at the camera, piles of dead chinese and POW's with kneeling with bound hands while US troops stood in combat armor and R-91 assault rifles behind them. "US Forces liberated the town of McCarthy last night after intense fighting with the Chinese Army."

McCarthy, Alaska 2070

"Where's my RTO?" the soldier screamed as a rocket screamed overhead.

"Here, Sergeant!" the RTO answered, running up to the burned out car where the Sergeant was in cover.

"I want Kilo Actual to hit that garage," the Sergeant said, "I'm pretty sure it's the Chinese CO's CP."

"Roger, Sarnt." the RTO said.

The 5th Army, 2nd Division, 34th Brigade, 3rd Battalion, Delta company moved into McCarthy at 0400 hours on Monday and began its assault on the town. With aviation and Armor support support the town had largely been taken until a Chinese counter attack pushed US forces back to the center of town.

1st Platoon's call for fire was answered by a VB-01 gunship from an offshore aircraft carrier loaded for bear. As a US heavy tank and four IFV's pushed up the main street of McCarthy in the second day of battle infantry soldiers pushed up the street moving house to house taking fire from Chinese soldiers. When the gunship roared overhead of the pinned platoon they cheered as the gunships rockets and laserfire leveled the Chinese positions. A second gunship traveling just behind the first dropped her payload on the CP.

Two Chinese Chimera tanks rounded the far corner of the street after the gunships passed followed by a fresh company sized force of infantry charging up the street. A round from the US Heavy tank destroyed the first Chimera before it was disabled by the second.

"I need AT!" yelled a sergeant, "Get on line!"

The forward platoon of US troops found cover where they could, some laying out in the street with light machine guns while the rest behind cars and blown out trees and buildings with R91's engaging the new threat. A lone soldier with his assault rifle and rocket launcher ran to where the Sergeant was.

"Hit that motherfucker!" the Sergeant yelled.

The rocket soldier ran into the open street, unprotected and fell to one knee. Aimed as steady as he could with 5.56 flying all around. He flipped a switch and pulled a trigger and the rocket flew down mainstreet. The resulting explosion killed at least a dozen Chinese soldiers and tracked the Chimera.

"Move up that IFV! Sweep the infantry!" a Lieutenant yelled. "Someone get that tank crew out!"

Delta Company secured McCarthy by 1730 on Tuesday the 14th of October 2070. The town never recovered from the fighting. Chinese forces made three separate attempts to retake the town but never succeeded.

Sergeant Micheal Clavel sat in a ruined house with his platoon, leaning back on his helmet, writing a letter to his brother. His rifle lay across his lap muzzle towards the door, an open can between his legs.

_Last week I was pulled from coastal defence to help take a town. McCarthy I think was the name of it. Not much left here after we took it. They made me a Sergeant when I was reassigned…_


	7. Appology to my Readers

Dear readers,

I am sorry to say I have neglected this story and your interest in it. I dare say I am experiencing a bit of writer's block as well and am not sure how to proceed as I'm not much of a thief and certainly not a police officer. Thus my experience and insight into either is somewhat limited.

The gap in chapter postings is largely due to my Wife and I having bought our first house this year and have been mightily busy with it. My advice to any of you is to not by a fixer upper, regardless of how well you know the seller.

That said, I have also been working on another story in place of this one and have a large amount written. I have named it Bluegarden Blues, and have taken several liberties with unknown lore, as you all know I am accustomed to doing.

Should any of you become curious at what I'm working on, or have any other suggestions or questions, fell free to message me.

Yours Truly,

Charlemagne


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